


ten, nine, eight (the countdown of me & you)

by criminalmindz_ (mcrhomo), mcrhomo



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Friends to Lovers, High School, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, M/M, Middle School, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:33:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29720745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrhomo/pseuds/criminalmindz_, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcrhomo/pseuds/mcrhomo
Summary: “Affectionate but not romantic or sexual," Spencer said, quoting a book he read on the eight types of love. "Platonic love equates to a deep understanding and connection to each other. Strong friendship. That’s what we have, right?”“I guess so. I never thought about that. I love you too, then," Derek said with a soft smile
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. prologue

Spencer wakes in a casket. It’s a strange way to start a story and yet this is the way it has decided to start. The first thing he recognizes is the wood. Pine, the cheapest wood to build a casket out of. That’s why sometimes they’re called pine boxes, but only if the one who occupies it is poor. The second thing he recognizes is that he’s being buried alive.

The nails on the casket aren’t all that secure. There’s still gaps where the lid meets the sides, and when Spencer hears and feels a gentle pat of dirt on the top of his box, he also feels grains of soil hit his arms.

Weirdly, he’s not all that upset about being buried alive. At least it’s cool in this box.

He smells his mother’s perfume. He feels the clean white sheets on his bed. He feels different skin on his, in a way that makes him feel protected. He’s sure he knows whose skin it is.

Then he wakes. He stills in his bed, not a casket, his bed in Las Vegas, Nevada. Derek is gone for work. Spencer doesn’t have to leave until noon, so it’s just him until they’re both returned to their shared apartment. The sun is just rising, and Spencer wakes up every day with it. He doesn’t know why, it’s just what his natural clock loves to do. And he doesn’t hate it, he likes to watch the sun rise with his coffee in his hand, just him and sometimes Derek too in the apartment.

He rises from his bed and stretches, then folds his sheet back to where it was. It’s cold in the house, not by choice but because the heating isn’t very good, and all their floors are tile, so his feet shy away from it when he puts them down. The wallpaper is peeling where the wall meets the floor. There’s that patch of wall that’s spackled up because someone or something cracked it. It’s not much. God, it’s not much at all. It’s dirty, too, and rather loud.

But it’s home. He would rather be here than anywhere else. He was only seventeen, emancipated from his hell of a home, and this was a place that was really _his._ His and Derek’s. He wished Derek were here.

He and Derek had been best friends since middle school. They both had interesting and traumatic home situations so they made a pact that if the bad ever got worse, so much worse that they couldn’t speak it, they would run away together.

In the eleventh grade the pact came into action. Spencer stole his mom’s car and drove ninety in the rain to Derek’s house, tears clouding his eyes and rain clouding the windshield, and it’s a miracle he didn’t wreck it. He knocked on Derek’s door, who was alone at home, thank god, and said two words: _the pact._ Derek was packed and out of the door in a minute and a half, and they stayed with a friend until they could afford their own place. He left behind everything for Spencer, and now they’re happy. Poor, yeah, and overworked, but in those evenings when they get time together at home it’s the happiest they’ve ever been.

But somehow there is something missing. Spencer and Derek were close, yeah, but it was never close enough. They trusted each other more than anyone else in the whole world and Spencer felt guilty for wanting more. He’d been in love with Derek since the ninth grade, when Derek rolled up his sleeves in math class and Spencer realized that he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. He brushed it off as a stupid teenage crush, hormones, whatever. And then it just got worse.

And Derek was straight, too. That was another thing. He was supportive of Spencer being gay, but he only ever liked women and he only ever will like women. Not that Spencer considers himself that much of a man anyway.


	2. eighth grade

Spencer lived pretty far from his school. Sometimes he would ride his bike home, but it got tiring and after years of riding home it took a toll on the bike itself. Recently he had acquired a city bus pass and was taking it as far as he could until he walked home. It seemed to work well.

Since he was smart, somewhat feminine, and smaller than the rest of his grade because he had skipped one, he was made an easy target for bullies in his school. Sometimes they would leave him alone if the larger, athletic Derek were around, but sometimes they didn’t care.

The two boys walked to the school bus ramp together after the dismissal bell rang, talking. Or rather, Derek listened while Spencer went on about some mathematical concept he would never understand.

“Hey Spencer!” said a voice, one that dripped with venom.

Spencer flinched, walked faster and pushed Derek silently when he started to look behind them. Yet the footsteps trailed him faster than he could walk, and before he knew it he was pushed on the ground by the offender. The bully’s name was Tobias Hankel, and he could’ve been attractive if his personality just wasn’t so ugly. His hair was reddish-brown and crisp, and he wore a scowl so deep it could cut someone. His words were even more sharp.

“Hey!” Derek shouted while Spencer freed himself from his huge backpack so he could sit up. Derek offered to help him up, but the smaller boy did not take his hand.

“Aw, lil’ Spencer Reid can get up all by himself, can’t he!” Tobias said in a childish tone before kicking Spencer in the side. Derek shoved him away with a profanity his parents wouldn’t have been proud of, but Tobias just grinned in his face.

“And his boyfriend swoops in and saves the day.”

“Fuck off, dude,” Derek said again.

“You should just go fucking kill yourself, we don’t need any more faggots in our school. I’m pretty sure your boyfriend Derek will be the only one at your funeral.”

A crowd has formed around them, complete with murmurs and whispers about the accusations Tobias was making. Spencer stood up and brushed himself off, but Tobias and his posse closed in around both he and Derek, who stood in front of him protectively.

“Are you gonna kiss him now, Derek? You fags gonna fuck in front of us?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Spencer yelled. The words sounded funny coming from his pubescent voice. He was used to the insults, but he didn’t want him to hurt Derek.

Tobias moved to punch Derek, but Spencer butted his way in front of him and pushed Tobias to the ground, and everyone gasped. Tobias’s confident smile withered away, and while he was down Spencer took the opportunity to kick him, once, twice, until he drew blood. He wished he could say he didn’t know what came over him, but he did. He very much did.

Tobias was unconscious, and Derek had to physically pull Spencer away from him before he killed the rude boy. “Spencer, stop it! Calm down! Stop!”

The crowd murmured louder still, and Spencer sprinted away before they saw him cry, and before a teacher saw what he had done. Derek followed.

Principal Strauss sat behind her desk, in front of the small boy. She looked at him, her desk computer, the clock, and then back at him.

“I told you she wouldn’t come,” Spencer said, staring at the floor.

“Let’s give her five more minutes, okay?”

“Ma’am, that’s what you said thirty minutes ago.”

Strauss sighed and clicked her tongue. “I suppose. But we’re going to need to have a conversation with her at some point, whether on the phone or in person.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to bring Mr. and Mrs. Hankel in now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She clicked a button on her phone and paged the school counselor, telling her it’s time for Tobias’s parents to come in now. Then, after a moment, the door opened to a larger man and a smaller, meeker woman, both distraught.

“Mr. and Mrs. Hankel, this is Spencer Reid.”

“This the kid that hit my son?” Mr. Hankel said aggressively.

“Mr. Hankel, please sit down.”

Reluctantly, he sat on the side of the room, away from the child as if Spencer were going to hit him as well. His wife only sat down when he did and continued to stay silent.

“Spencer’s mother was meant to join us today, too,” Ms. Strauss said, “but unfortunately she couldn’t make it.”

The other three parties only stayed silent, so Ms. Strauss continued. “Mrs. Hankel, would you like to tell Spencer the gravity of the injuries he inflicted on Tobias?”

Mrs. Hankel shook her head and looked at her husband. Mr. Hankel took the offer. “You sent Tobias to the hospital. Gave him a concussion and cracked his rib. The doctor said he was lucky to not have internal bleeding.”

Spencer swallowed down a sob and nodded at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fix it, kid,” said Mr. Hankel.

Ms. Strauss spoke again, “Spencer, you need to understand how serious this is. If Mr. and Mrs. Hankel choose to press charges, you could go to jail for years. And think about what this will do to Tobias, the mental effects, the physical effects. He may have to go to physical therapy for what you’ve done.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him that bad,” Spencer said. “I really didn’t.” It was all he could offer.

“Listen, you’ve only ever been a good kid, so I’m gonna give you the benefit of the doubt for a minute. Why _did_ you hurt him that bad?”

“I…” Spencer struggled with the answer. “Tobias makes my life horrible. He shoves me around and hits me, even yesterday he pushed me to the ground and started kicking me. But yesterday he…he insulted my best friend, and I wasn’t going to let him just do that. I meant to just get him off us at first but…that would only win that fight. I wanted to win all the past ones, too, and make it so he’d never touch me in the future.”

Ms. Strauss looked at him compassionately and said, “What did he call your friend yesterday?”

Mr. Hankel’s face grew red and angry. “I thought this was about the injuries my _son_ sustained, not whatever hurt this kid’s feelings.”

“Please, Mr. Hankel, sit down. Spencer just said that your son likes to beat him on a regular basis. This means that your son is another offender, and we will treat both boys without bias.”

All Mr. Hankel did was sat down and fumed, but Ms. Strauss looked back at Spencer and repeated her question, “What did Tobias call your friend yesterday?”

“Do you want me to say what he actually said or paraphrase it to be school-appropriate?”

“Oh, well,” Ms. Strauss said. “Do you remember exactly what he said?”

“Yes, ma’am, I have an eidetic memory. I just wouldn’t be comfortable saying exactly what he said.”

“That’s right,” she said with a laugh. “I forget you’re the school genius. Why don’t you write it down? Exactly what he said.” She passed him a piece of paper and a pen, and he leaned over her desk and wrote down every detail.

He passed her back the paper and she grew upset while reading it.

“Mr. Hankel,” she said. “these things your son said are far from appropriate. They’re bigoted. This has no place in our school.”

“So?” Charles Hankel said. “We’re not talking about words and feelings right now. My son is in the hospital with a concussion.”

“Mr. Hankel, believe me, I am very worried about your son, I’m worried about the kind of home he’s growing up in. This is the kind of thing you learn from your parents.” She passed him the paper. “Is this the kind of vernacular you throw around at home?”

Charles read it and only scowled, passing the paper back to her.

“I’ll take your silence as an affirmation.” She sighed. “Listen, Mr. Hankel. I’ll be blunt. Spencer is the smartest child in our school. Probably in the state, actually. The only reason he hasn’t graduated yet is because he opted so many times not to skip grades. We need his test scores to raise funding.”

Charles fumed. “You mean you’re keeping him for cash? Do I need to remind you that my son is in the hospital? You want this kind of violence in your school?”

“Spencer is not a violent student. That’s something I can tell you for sure. This is his first offense ever, and it’s probably due to pent-up emotion from the lack of an outlet. You probably assumed from his lack of parental presence that he doesn’t have the best home life. Your son is the violent one. If we were expelling Spencer, we would expel Tobias too. If anything, you’re lucky we need Spencer.”

“I’m done here,” Charles said. He referred to his wife, “Come on.”

“I’m not,” Ms. Strauss said. “After Tobias gets out of the hospital, he’s being expelled for a week, along with Spencer.”

Charles scoffed. “Fine.” He promptly walked out of the door, and both Spencer and Ms. Strauss sighed from relief. They were both afraid that the man would explode.

“I advise you go home now, Spencer. I’m sorry I have to expel you. You do know that I’m on your side on this, right? I think Tobias deserved what you gave him.”

Spencer was wide-eyed at this confession. “Thank you, I think?”

“Tell your mother we have a phone conference at noon on Friday.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He just hoped his mother was lucid then and that his father wasn’t home.

He took the bus home that day. His father, unfortunately, was home. He decided not to say anything about the suspension in fear of a punishment. Hopefully he would be gone to his…other home the following week so Spencer wouldn’t have to explain what he did. Maybe his father would be proud of him for beating someone up, but he didn’t want to chance it. He didn’t really want to do something his father would be proud of, anyway.

His father was there the next day, too, so Spencer “left for school.” He went to the library instead, which was his second favorite place. His first favorite place was wherever Derek was. He also went to the library because it was conveniently located next to the community center where Derek played football.

Spencer frowned at the thought of Derek playing football. Not for the idea itself, but for the fact that he knew who coached football at the community center and what he did to Derek. Spencer was the only person in the world that knew. Derek said he liked it better when Spencer was at the community center because it distracted him from it.

Three o’clock came around and he knew that Derek would come directly to the community center after school let out at three thirty. He left the library after reading the entire section on animals and sat alone in the bleachers for thirty minutes. A man sat next to him. He was bald and white and wore a wifebeater and a plaid shirt. Spencer didn’t understand most social convention, but he understood that anyone who wore a wifebeater in public was bad news. He didn’t care if the guy was a pedophile because he knew where to hit with his little elbows if he was abducted. The guy had bad teeth, too. Probably from drug use, Spencer internally noted. He offered Spencer a cigarette. Bad, bad news.

“Okay,” Spencer said, much to his own surprise. The guy lit it for him, and Spencer smoked it like he had been smoking his entire life. The guy raised his eyebrow at Spencer, but the two of them smoked together like old men until the man left. Maybe not a pedophile, then. Or maybe he was just waiting until dark.

Three thirty. The school bell was probably ringing, Spencer noted. Fifteen minutes and thirty-one seconds after the bell (he counted), Derek turned the corner to the community center. He spotted Spencer in the bleachers but seemed to grow angry as he came closer.

“Is that a cigarette? Spencer, what the hell?”

The smaller boy just shrugged. Derek continued, “What, first that whole thing with Hankel, then you skip school an entire day, then I find you smoking?” He calmed himself down and found rationality. “What’s wrong, Spence?”

“I didn’t skip a day,” Spencer said. “I’m suspended.” There was a twinge of irony in his voice.

“Oh. For what you did to Hankel?” Derek said, sitting in the bleachers next to him. Spencer nodded. “I think you gave him what he deserved.”

“That’s what Principal Strauss said.” Spencer said, snuffing out the cigarette.

“Really?” Derek said, surprised, and Spencer nodded again.

“School policy says I should be expelled, but she needs my scores for funding. But also she likes me and hates Hankel. I met his dad, too. A complete dirtbag.”

“Well, you know what they say about apples and trees,” Derek said. “I have to go change for football practice. You’re staying, right?”

“Yeah. My dad’s home. Good luck.”

Derek smiled at him and went to change. His football practice went well, and Derek walked Spencer home, stopping before the Reids’ yard started, so Spencer’s father wouldn’t see them through the window.

“Okay, Spence. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Spencer sighed. “I love you, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You know,” Spencer said. “Platonically.”

“What does that mean again?”

“Affectionate but not romantic or sexual,” Spencer said, quoting a book. “Platonic love equates to a deep understanding and connection to each other. Strong friendship. That’s what we have, right?”

“Yeah. I never thought about that. I love you too, then.”

Spencer smiled and reluctantly went inside. He was greeted by his mother, whom he kissed on the cheek. She ordered him to say hello to his father, who was in the kitchen, whispering in his ear that not saying hello would just make him angrier. So Spencer obliged.

“Hi, Dad,” Spencer said meekly from the opposite edge of the kitchen. William Reid was sitting at their little dining room table, reviewing paperwork.

“Hello, Spencer. Good day at school?”

“Yeah,” he lied.

Spencer went to his room to do homework. He usually slept in his mother’s room, but when his dad was there it obviously wouldn’t be okay. He didn’t even go in there unless his dad was home, so he associated that room with just…bad.

He realized he still smelled like cigarettes. He changed his clothes and tiptoed into the bathroom to shower. He didn’t wet his hair, because that would be a dead giveaway that he had showered. He didn’t know why that was one of his dad’s setoffs. What’s so wrong with being clean?

He wanted his dad to go back home. This wasn’t his home. Over on the other side of town with his kids that he probably treated better than Spencer, that was his home. His other kids went to his school, and he made a note to ask them if they were mistreated by their father. In a strange way he kind of hoped they were, just so he would have someone to relate to.

He took comfort in the fact that he didn’t smell like smoke anymore, but now was afraid his dad would smell soap on him. He was called out for dinner, but no one made any. That was one thing that never changed, is that he always cooked for himself and his mother. His dad was always “not hungry,” thank god. He went out the last week and bought about a hundred packs of Ramen, due to the fact they were sixty-five cents a pack and they could fill their stomachs on his mother’s welfare check. His dad never gave them any money or paid any bills, despite living and eating there a certain percentage of the time.

He and his mother ate the noodles, and his dad just kind of sat there watching them. He was like a vulture, hovering, waiting for his prey to show weakness and die. It was scary, really, because Spencer knew just how easily his father could devour his still-warm corpse. He shook the uncomfortable image from his mind.

“You smell clean, Spencer.” Damn. He was caught. Spencer braced himself, saying nothing.

William continued. “Did you shower?” And Spencer still said nothing.

“You know we can’t be running too much water in this house, son. How many times have I had to tell you? This is unacceptable. Go to your room.”

Spencer pushed his bowl away and ran off to his room, knowing his father would follow him. And there he was, looming over the young boy like a nightmare. “What have I said to you about running the tap?”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said, gritting his teeth. “I wanted to be clean.”

“You don’t get to be clean!” William screamed. “Fuck! When will you learn!”

He took off his belt and folded it over in his hand. He lashed it out at Spencer, making welts on his bare calves. A bad idea to wear shorts today, Spencer thought before yelping in pain.

“Jessica and Robert don’t do this shit to me. It’s time you fucking learn, Spencer.”

It would be a good idea, Spencer’s rational mind thought, to just let him put his belt back on and leave. The other part of his mind, though, the one he couldn’t name, made him refute William’s argument.

“Jessica and Robert are allowed to shower.”

William stopped in his tracks and turned around. “The fuck did you just say?”

“I said that Jessica and Robert are allowed to shower. Jessica and Robert don’t do this shit to you because you don’t do this shit to them.”

“Watch your language, son.”

“I’m not your son. I denounce that.”

“You’re funny,” William laughed. “I made you.”

“No. Mom made me. Books made me. My best friend Derek made me. The constant shit I have to go through made me. You had no part in it.”

William lashed out and knocked Spencer to the floor before kneeling on top of him and holding his throat. “Say that shit again.” Spencer couldn’t—he could only manage a pained squeak. “That’s what I thought.”

He finally let go as Spencer was starting to turn purple, then left the room, locking the door from the outside. The small boy banged on the door, hoping for maybe his mother to let him out, but it was no use. He crawled under his bed and peeled up the carpet, lifting a floorboard to reach the secret phone he paid for a month ago. It was wireless, and the receiver was plugged in the basement. They had a home phone he used when it was just him and his mom, but he bought this one specifically for moments like this when his father was home.

Holding the phone in his hands, a thought crossed his mind of calling 911 or child services. Then he remembered that if child services came around, they would take him away from his schizophrenic mother because she was unfit as a parent. He was dependent on his father for his legal presence, but he just wished that didn’t mean he had to be around. Spencer called Derek instead. Even if the other boy couldn’t help, it would calm Spencer just to hear his voice. He keyed in the number to the Morgans’ home phone and hoped that Derek’s stepdad Carl wouldn’t answer. After learning what he did to Derek, he didn’t know if he could handle hearing the man’s voice without lashing out.

Fortunately, It was Fran Morgan – or rather, Fran Buford that answered the phone. Spencer collected himself and asked if he could speak to Derek.

“Of course, hon,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

How did she know? Mother’s instinct, Spencer supposed. “Yes, ma’am. He told me to call so we could study together.”

“Sure,” Fran said, suspicious. The wrong thing to say, because she knew that Spencer didn’t need to study. “My boy’s trying to get you to do his homework for him, isn’t he?”

Spencer sighed from relief. “Not really. He just wants me to help him in pre-algebra. He doesn’t really get it, and he has a test next week.”

“Derek!” he heard Fran shout. “Spencer’s on the phone to help you cheat in pre-algebra.”

“Ma’am –” Spencer said, but soon Derek was on the phone.

“My mom’s joking, right?” Derek said.

“Yeah. I said I was gonna help you study.”

“Man, for being a genius, you really are stupid. She knows you don’t need to study.”

“Anyway. Are you alone right now?”

“Yeah, I’m in my room. Why, what’s wrong?”

“My dad locked me in my room again.”

“Did you take another shower?”

“Yeah. Then I got mad. I told him I’m not his son. He choked me.”

“Choked you?” Derek said in shock.

“Yeah. Be quieter about it, though. I don’t want your mom to call child services.”

“Why not?”

“They’ll take me away from my mom.”

“Oh. How is she, by the way?”

“She’s fine right now, I think. I don’t really know.”

“Have you tried the windows?”

“We have storm windows.”

“In Nevada?”

“I think my dad installed them for this reason specifically.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Spencer said honestly. “I need a hug or something. Or a different father.”

“I’m coming over.”

“My dad’s still home.”

“You think I care?”

Spencer tried to argue, but the line went dead. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit. _You think I care?_ How lovely it was to have a friend that cared about him that much.

Derek rode his bike to Spencer’s house and snuck around the back of it and threw pebbles at Spencer’s window. Spencer’s house was only one story. He just as easily could’ve knocked, but it was endearing.

Spencer laughed at him and started to speak through the window, but Derek couldn’t hear him. Derek shook his head and fished a dry erase marker out of his pocket.

 _.emoc bluow I uoy blot I –_ Derek wrote.

Spencer brought a notepad out from his desk and wrote on it. He put up the message in the window.

_Write backwards so I can read it better._

It took Derek a minute, but he got it eventually.

_I told you I would come._

_Thank you. I really needed this. I hate my father._

_I’m sorry :(_

_It’s not your fault._

_It was a sympathetic sorry._

_Oh. “Sorry” as in “sorrow.”_

_You’re so weird._




Spencer heard the turning of the key in the doorknob and motioned frantically for Derek to hide. He tried to act casually, and luckily it was his mother that came through the door. He practically leaped to hug her and cried into her shoulder.

“He’s gone,” Diana said. “He probably won’t be back for another month.”

“I hate him.”

“I know, baby.”

“I hate you for marrying him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I hate his stupid other wife and his stupid other kids.”

“I know.”

“I hate that half of me is him.”

He had finally said something she could argue. “Spencer, all of you is you. If you don’t want to be his, you don’t have to. But what you said today was stupid, I’ll be honest with you. You didn’t deserve what he did to you, but it would’ve been better if you hadn’t provoked him.”

“I’m just so mad. I wish he would die.”

“Oh, honey,” she said. “You’re so weird?”

“I know that, too.”

“No, it says that on your window.”

Spencer looked back at his window. “Oh. That’s right. Derek’s here, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. I love Derek like a second son. Tell him to come in.”

Spencer ventured outside and found Derek standing flat against the outside wall, where no one could see him. “Derek, my dad’s gone. My mom says to come inside.”

“Oh,” Derek breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

Derek greeted Diana with a hug. Spencer and Derek were at that point in friendship where they called each other’s moms “Mom.” Of course, any adult woman was “ma’am” to Spencer, but he found himself referring to Fran as Mom in third person.

That night, when Derek left, Spencer found himself unusually happy. It might’ve been to do with the fact that Derek was just there, or that his dad had just left, or that his mom was lucid for a long period of time, but it was nice to feel good for once.

The next week, when Spencer went back to school, he was treated with a new kind of respect. No one messed with him anymore. Hankel came back the next day, and every time he saw Spencer he ran like a dog with its tail between its legs. Spencer didn’t necessarily like being feared, but he had to admit it felt nice to see Hankel so scared of him.


End file.
